


Shallow Hearts

by fuzipenguin



Series: Broken Dreams [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some sleep makes things better. Kinda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shallow Hearts

                Energy levels: 56%

                Defrag cycle: complete

                Sideswipe powers up to these messages on his HUD, as well as several others listing his various healing injuries. He shunts it all aside in favor of relishing the feeling of tanks which no longer cramp in emptiness. There’s a solid, reassuring presence at his back and the sound of Ratchet grumbling to himself nearby, and everything points to the conclusion that he is finally safe.

                It’s a victory that feels hollow without his twin here to celebrate it with him.

                Optics still offline, Sideswipe flips over, snuggling against his berthmate’s frame. He throws an arm and leg over the body and tucks his head against the bend between neck and shoulder. Jazz is tiny in comparison to Sideswipe, frame smelling like medicinal cleanser and core temperature running hot as his systems work overtime in self-repair.

                But beneath that is a familiar energy field and even though it isn’t the one Sideswipe wants, it is still comforting. Sideswipe presses closer, unable to suppress the shudder of longing that runs through him.

                He hears a clicking above his head, and then a frustrated noise rumbles through the chest he is cuddled against. An invitation for a private communication line pings Sideswipe’s HUD and he accepts the request.

                **Sideswipe. I’m not you brother** , Jazz says gently.

                “I know,” Sideswipe murmurs against Jazz’s throat. It’s a poor illusion to begin with, and the addition of Jazz’s higher pitched voice doesn’t help. “Shhh. Just let me pretend. Just for a klick, ok?”

                Jazz ventilates a sigh, gears straining and grinding until a hand lands on Sideswipe’s arm, the one he has flung across the other mech’s chest.

                **I can do that. You mind me pretending you’ve got some sexy aft doorwings?**

                “I’m waving them around for you right now,” Sideswipe quips back. The least he can do is play along. Jazz and Prowl had been very close; not bonded as far as Sideswipe knew, but they probably would have if given a chance.

                The fantasy of Sideswipe holding his brother can’t sustain itself. He lingers against the other mech for another few moments before sighing in defeat and pushing himself back from Jazz. He tentatively looks up, but Jazz’s visor is offline.

                “Thanks,” Sideswipe mutters as he settles back onto his opposite side, back pressed closely against Jazz’s hip and shoulder once more. “Sorry.”

                **Nothing to be sorry for, mech. There’s a reason you’re up here with me; thought you might recharge better.**

                “I _did_ recharge well,” Sideswipe admits, snuggling down and letting his optic shutters close again. His initial thought upon coming online had been to jump up and begin scrounging for energon for the others, but now he remembered that Ratchet had fed them a while ago. They’re safe; there’s no reason for him to get up.

                Well, there’s the matter of reporting to Prime, and no doubt Ratchet is going to give him a much more in depth exam than the quick and dirty emergency scan Sideswipe had gotten last night. But they don’t have to know he’s awake just yet.

                A nice lie-in is just what he needs. He deserves it damn it, and by Primus, he’s going to enjoy it.

                --

                Jazz enjoys Sideswipe’s cuddle far too much and immediately misses the other mech’s octopus-like embrace once it’s gone. Jazz is naturally a tactile mech, and other than Ratchet’s professional touches and Optimus’ daily pat on the shoulder, Jazz hadn’t really had all that much physical interactions since the last battle. He’s apparently gone a little touch starved over the past few weeks.

                He’s tempted to tell Sideswipe he’s allowed to snuggle any time he wants, but isn’t quite sure how that will be taken. So he stays silent and contents himself with Sideswipe pressing close against him as he falls back into recharge. He can’t imagine it’s easy for the other mech; twins aren’t meant to be apart.

                Jazz still hasn’t gotten the full story of that separation out of Sideswipe yet. Nor will he push for it; Jazz remembers his and Prowl’s parting and none of that memory is particularly something he likes to revisit.

                A scuff of metal against concrete catches Jazz’s attention; he laboriously turns his head, but his direct line of sight is blocked by Sideswipe’s shoulder. Jazz tenses as the sound is repeated, closer this time. He forces himself to relax; Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s instincts have been honed over the centuries to be similar to Jazz’s own. If Sideswipe felt danger, even in a healing state as he was, he’d be alert before Jazz could say a word.

                One more scrape and then Sideswipe’s frame jostles just slightly. The warrior stirs enough to grumble something Jazz can’t make out, and then bright optics are peering over Sideswipe’s shoulder down at Jazz.

                The wary gaze belongs to a face Jazz is unfamiliar with. A tentative brush of his energy field against the new mech’s reveals electromagnetics Jazz has never before touched. The other mech flinches back at the tiny probe, the top of his head disappearing behind Sideswipe’s bulk.

Intensely curious, Jazz continues to stare and is rewarded when the mech’s head slowly rises up once more. The other mech looks startled to see Jazz still looking back. His mouth opens, but nothing more than a squeak emerges.

                “That’s Jazz,” Sideswipe mumbles sleepily. “Jazz, Jolt. Jolt, Jazz. Jazz is safe; you can trust him. Go back to recharge,” he commands. Sideswipe’s arm rises up and then Jolt’s head disappears in a chirr of rubbing metal. Seems like Sideswipe is determined to cuddle _someone_ this morning.

                After a long moment, a quiet voice rises up from the other side of the warrior’s frame. “It’s nice to meet you.”

                Jazz chuckles quietly. “You too, Jolt.”

                The new mech doesn’t speak again and soon the hum of another mech’s quietly recharging systems are layering over Sideswipe’s.

                It’s… kinda nice actually. Even though Jolt is unfamiliar, Jazz has always appreciated a good dog pile every now and then. That many frames surrounding his own could be comforting, especially if it was mecha he trusted implicitly. He idly wonders if he could convince Ratchet to give him daily snuggles as part of the healing process.

                He’s trying to imagine where Ironhide would fit on the truck bed after Ratchet and Optimus piled on around him when Jazz hears another scrape, this time down by his feet. He manages to crane his neck upwards just enough to peer down the length of his own body.

                Three pairs of optics stare back at him.

 --

                Ratchet’s nearly got Ironhide’s spare cannon fixed when he realizes that it’s awfully quiet in his corner of the bay. He stands up and slowly peers over the edge of the exam table to the area on the floor that the newbies had claimed for themselves.

                It’s empty.

                He looks around wildly, wondering how he could have missed them getting up and moving. He had been distracted by his project and his remote monitoring of Sideswipe’s sys…

                Ratchet hurriedly takes several steps towards the truck bed where he had deposited Sideswipe and then heaves an ex-vent of relief when he sees the warrior. He is practically buried beneath the frames of his co-travelers and one of them, Jolt, Ratchet thinks, is tucked up under Sideswipe’s chin.

                Moving forward as quietly as possible, Ratchet is barely able to pick out each individual frame of the twins and the triplets. They are curled together as tightly as possible, but do not stir when Ratchet finally rounds the truck bed and stands at Sideswipe’s feet.

                A glint of blue in the darkness and then Ratchet’s comm line pings for a connection.

                **Sides has got himself a little harem, doesn’t he?** Jazz asks, the amusement in his tone as clear as day.

                **They do seem quite attached** , Ratchet admits, optics surveying the pile. There are a few stray arms and legs leaking over Sideswipe’s body and propped up on Jazz’s. **How are you doing? Do I need to move anyone?**

                **Naw, mech. It’s all good. No one’s putting enough pressure on me to hurt. Looks like they all need this. Even Siders. Woke up to him cuddling me a littttle desperately this morning.**

                Ratchet crosses his arms over his chassis. **Jolt’s probably the worst, but you’re right. Sides is going to have a hard time. You two have always been close; are you prepared for him to be a bit clingy?**

                **I’m not going to say no to the company** , Jazz replies immediately. A swirl of guilt flickers through Ratchet’s spark.

                Jazz was what the humans would call an extrovert. He thrived on interpersonal interactions and he had been getting very little of that lately. The others all had duties which kept them occupied elsewhere although Optimus always made a point to stop by at least once daily, even if Jazz was in stasis. When he was awake though, Ratchet often took to remote monitoring the other officer and busying himself with projects. It was easier than seeing an old friend struggling and being unable to do anything about it.

                **Ahh… I’m sorry, Jazz. I should keep you better occupied when you’re awake.**

                **Don’t worry ‘bout it, mech. I know you’re busy and can’t chat every minute of the day,** Jazz replies, his visor flashing as he laboriously raises his head. **And now there’s all these new guys who’ve never heard my war stories. I’ve got an audience back!**

                Ratchet can’t help the amused snort that pops out of him. Then he cringes as two of the Arcee units stir at the sound. They quickly resettle, but Ratchet shakes his head nevertheless. He’ll have his hands full over these next few days with this group, that’s for sure.

                **Keep the tales humorous, my friend,** Ratchet cautions. **They’re traumatized, the entire lot of them.**

 **Who isn’t anymore?** Jazz replies with a touch of bitterness to his tone that makes Ratchet blink at him in surprise. Then the saboteur’s voice gentles. **But I get it. Seven bodies, four spark resonances. It’s not hard to see the connection. Shockwave had them, huh?**

 **Indirectly,** Ratchet replies. **One of his underlings, Binder.**

**Mm. Haven’t heard of ‘em. But I’m sure it wasn’t a picnic. Looks like Sideswipe did good though, huh? Getting them here?**

                Ratchet’s gaze slides over to land on the warrior. He ventilates evenly and quietly, seemingly not bothered by the other bodies draped over and around him. If his brother was here, Sunstreaker’d be lamenting the state of Sideswipe’s blackened frame. Ratchet’s not worried about the other’s body, however; time and energon and picking an Earth form will take care of that.

                No, Ratchet’s the most worried about the wild flutterings of Sideswipe’s spark that haven’t lessoned even with recharge and fuel. Ratchet’s honestly a little shocked that Sideswipe is here and not still traveling through space, searching for his other half. It would be instinctual to do so. But apparently he’d grown up some since the last time Ratchet had spent time with him. The deep concern he’d exhibited over these mechs was proof of that.

                A sense of pride intertwines with the worry and Ratchet nods. **He did well indeed.**

 

~ End


End file.
